Master Apprentice Archive A Shade of Blue Quick search:

Summary: So you think sex cures everything, huh? Just like that? Not even Obi-Wan can make his apologies so easily. Sequel to A Pair of Heels, which was the sequel to A Touch of Lace.

Q/O, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fetish/Kink, S/M.
Rated NC-17 for all-out kinkiness and dom/sub issues.

Legal defence: nil.
Intention to infringe on George's profits: nil.
Literary value: nil.
Gratuitous nudity and sexual exploitation: excessive.

I *really* recommend you refresh your memories of the previous stories. For those who don't want to dig them up, I won't bother writing a summary of them, because if you didn't read them, this story won't work, and if you did read them, then you most likely remember that Obi-Wan discovered his drugged-up master liked to wear a touch of lace and a pair of heels, and that he rather liked his master wearing them too, so they had sex. And that pretty much sums it up. Oh, yeah - we left our intrepid heroes just after Qui-Gon came in Obi-Wan's mouth. That's probably important.

I probably should warn you (tease you?) that this installment moves into heavy kink.

Thank you to Layna for the most excellent beta, and you can especially thank her for the cooking scene being what it is, even if Obi-Wan's pissed because he's sure she hid the pepper.

Writing truly is an excellent way to learn about yourself. And what fascinating things one learns... Here goes discipline, Squidlove-style (under Holly's sithly influence, though she prolly doesn't remember why). My mother did not raise me with this in mind.

Dr Squidlove, keeper of Qui-Gon's black lace stockings.

Thick-fingered hands settled back around his head, holding him still, and Qui-Gon began to thrust a firm rhythm, working for the long-overdue release. Obi-Wan squeezed Qui-Gon's thighs and hummed his approval, using his tongue to counter the rhythm until Qui-Gon lost his place, stabbing indiscriminately, moaning incoherently, and came.

For a long moment they stayed as they were, Qui-Gon pulling deep breaths, Obi-Wan with his head buried against his master's groin, feeling the pulse slow against his cheek. Eventually Qui-Gon let go and began the long slide down to kneel on the floor.

Their lips met and caught, Qui-Gon pulling Obi-Wan down on top of him as his tongue plundered after his own taste. Obi-Wan gave it gladly, locking his legs around Qui-Gon's, still thrilling with surprise at the soft stockings, and bearing down to press a reminder against his lover's groin.

Qui-Gon grunted, and Obi-Wan curled a hand under his lover's buttock. "I want to be in you, like last night."

Qui-Gon froze. "Like last night."

Obi-Wan nuzzled into his neck. "You were so beautiful, so-"

"Is that what you want?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, confused, and Qui-Gon pushed him away, backing up until he could rest against the wall.

"Is that how you want me? Docile? Half out of my mind?"

What? Obi-Wan stared; Qui-Gon was genuinely hurt. "No! ... Yes..." He crawled closer and stopped when Qui-Gon glared at his reaching hand. "I want you a lot of ways. Are you-" A flash of fear. "Are you saying you didn't want it?"

"I'm saying you shouldn't have taken it."

An ugly silence, and then he went on, voice hard. "I did want you. I have wanted for you for a long time, but I would never have suspected that you would take advantage of someone in that state, Obi-Wan. That you would ever take advantage of me." His chin was high, and he was wearing the same _expression he always wore when chastising Obi-Wan for one of his greater mistakes, but he held his back to the wall, hands wrapped around his stockinged knees.

Obi-Wan did this. His grand seduction collapsed around him.

"I'm sorry."

He regretted the words even before Qui-Gon's mouth twisted in distaste, had to fold his arms to keep from making it worse. "Please don't believe I intended... One thing just led to another." Led to another possibility Obi-Wan didn't want to consider. "You aren't going to send me away, are you?"

A long, too long silence, and then Qui-Gon shook his head. "I should. For the sake of your training and my own self-respect I should, but I can't. I should put an end to this, but I don't want to."

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, sickened. He'd never seen Qui-Gon so bare, and it was his doing.

Fingers twined around his braid. "I love you, Obi-Wan, and I can't help being glad that it happened, but I don't know how to repair what's been done."

He loved him. Qui-Gon loved him. The confession should have strengthened their bond but suddenly it was terribly fragile. Obi-Wan wanted to reach out in comfort, found himself pulling away instead, kneeling forward until his forehead touched the floor. "I offer my apologies, Master. If there is some way, any way I could give back what I have taken..."

There was no response but Obi-Wan waited, determined to stay until Qui-Gon told him otherwise.

Time passed, and then Obi-Wan felt him standing. He couldn't help but sneak a glance, and barely caught the gasp. He jerked his face back to the floor.

It was the first time he'd seen Qui-Gon walking in those heels, and he wouldn't have thought it possible but the man was even sexier, his confident walk become a sensuous glide. The long black line of his legs accentuated the swing of his hips and the flexing of his ass, broadening to his back, and his hair tumbled loose over his shoulders. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, quelling his desire. He had no right to these thoughts, but his ears tuned in with disappointment at the sweeping sound of leggings being pulled up.

Qui-Gon returned and settled behind him. Touched his back. "Sit up, Obi-Wan," said softly.

Obi-Wan sat back on his heels, and felt strong hands lift him over to sit with his knees pulled up in front of him. Qui-Gon sat close behind, not quite resting against him, and traced fingers up his neck.

"I do not doubt your regret for hurting me, Obi-Wan, but that is something I would rather deal with later. For now, I will deal with the curiosity that led you to invade my privacy." His arms - now clad in an undertunic - encircled his padawan to capture one foot. "Point your toes," and then a stocking was being threaded up Obi-Wan's leg.

Obi-Wan watched, slack-jawed, as those heavy hands drew up his leg, leaving a blue trail in their wake.

"Other foot."

He started, realising Qui-Gon was waiting with the other stocking, and hurriedly obeyed. He stared in wonder at the shadings of the legs stretched out in front of him, almost navy at his ankles, lightening to a rich midnight at his thighs. He barely felt the garter belt stretching around his waist, didn't move until Qui-Gon nudged his side.

"Stand up."

Obi-Wan stood and watched dumbly as Qui-Gon kneeled in front of him to clip the suspenders to the simple bands of lace, wearing a look of intensity Obi-Wan usually only saw when his master was faced with a particularly complex problem. He turned when directed, feeling the pleasure of Qui-Gon's hand brushing over his ass as he clipped the rear suspender in place. A finger slid along the back of one garter, leaving Obi-Wan's pulse racing.

"How does that feel, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan flushed, trying to capture one of the million reponses flying through his mind, most vulnerable, all pleasurable. "I - uh..." He wet his lips. "It doesn't feel like punishment."

Qui-Gon turned him around until they faced again, gazing slowly up his body with a small smile. "You will understand." He stood - stockinged feet below the trousers, Obi-Wan was relieved to note - and took Obi-Wan's hands to hold him open for another inspection, his pleasure clear. "Shoes."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask why Qui-Gon had a pair of midnight blue stilletoes in his size, and closed it. Without releasing his master's hold, he stepped into the waiting shoes, and felt the world grow smaller.

He looked down, hardly recognising his own body. It seemed ridiculously long, and somehow elegant. He found himself sucking in his stomach without thought, smoothing his hands over his own flanks. He twisted the belt for a better look. Simple, like the garters. He looked up, and was startled to realise he could stare directly into Qui-Gon's eyes from here.

Qui-Gon's eyes were burning, fresh from their own inspection of his body, and he lifted a hand to brush his student's cheek. "You have no idea what a sight you make."

Obi-Wan leaned in to offer a gentle kiss, was accepted for a moment and then pressed away.

"I ate nothing this morning, Padawan, and we seem to be getting towards noon. If you would be so kind as to prepare something?"

"Prepare something?"

"A meal."

Obi-Wan stared across the long metres to the preparation area, and then down at his feet again, the newfound height suddenly precarious.

"As you are, Padawan."

Obi-Wan straightened. A lifetime of Jedi training. He took a few clunking, pigeon-toed steps, and then carefully shortened his stride. The heels rocked under his feet, his centre of gravity somewhere far behind him, but he managed to keep upright. He felt like a newborn kaadu-calf, hobbling to the kitchenette, and though he knew he didn't look so unsteady, the knowledge did little to help.

When he reached the counter, he looked back over his shoulder to find Qui-Gon watching him, lips parted and wet.

"You are beautiful."

"I don't feel like you looked, in this."

The desire turned to humour. "Practice, my Obi-Wan." He picked up a datapad and began to read.

Practice. Fine.

A short-fry was quick, easy, not too much moving involved. He grabbed some vegetables and meat from the cooler and carried them to the cooker. He was beginning to find his balance, enough that when he felt Qui-Gon's gaze following him to the cupboards, he swung his hips a little until one shoe tipped beneath him.

Qui-Gon smirked.

Obi-Wan glared at the contents of the cupboard. Spices, oils. Yanked them out and dumped them on the bench.

He reached for the handle of the cupboard under the bench and missed, took a few more swipes before he found it. Everything was too damned low. He reached down to pull the cooking dish from the bottom - inordinately low - shelf, and then jerked to standing when a whistle from the corner alerted him to the way his ass was sticking in the air. Obi-Wan grasped the counter for balance and searched for calm. He didn't want to know if he was being ogled or critiqued.

Pushing down his humiliation, he trotted over and dropped the dish on the cooker, was reaching up for a woodboard when something thunked behind him.

The bottle of sweet-oil. He sighed and grabbed a cloth to wipe the oil from the floor, sweeping down and almost tumbling on his face when he was again reminded that the floor was further away than it used to be. He adjusted his balance and mopped up the mess, feeling the garters stretch over his ass, chanced a look and saw Qui-Gon staring, smiling. Obi-Wan dropped to a crouch, face flaming.

Qui-Gon's experssion was merely inquisitive when Obi-Wan looked up again, but Obi-Wan was a Jedi and trained to notice details like the way Qui-Gon's hand rested indecently high on his leg.

That explained how the bottle fell.

He wiped up the last of the spill and threw the cloth on the counter, standing slowly. This was no longer sexy in the least. The belt was chafing, and Obi-Wan felt ridiculous. And just a little bit aroused which made no sense at all. He snatched up a knife and took it out on the vegetables.

He stalked over to get a bowl for the meat and stalked back, faltering when he realised he'd finally got the walk right. He warmed, amused at his own pride, puffing out his chest a little. Qui-Gon's hunger was tangible, now, which increased Obi-Wan's arousal. He was feeling it second-hand through the bond.

Qui-Gon's hand was sliding back and forth over his leg. Obi-Wan wouldn't look, but he knew it anyway. He yanked open the cupboard and stared. What was he looking for? He could hear Qui-Gon's hand sliding over cloth. Pepper.

He looked in the next cupboard, and the next. Where did they keep the damned pepper? A heavy breath through Qui-Gon's nose. Obi-Wan stopped, drawing on the Force to still his mind. He was looking for pepper, which was a spice, which he'd already gotten out.

Obi-Wan heated oil and threw in the meat, stumbling back as it spat back at his vulnerable belly. Short-fry was not such a wonderful idea, because he was naked as well as hobbled. Naked. In the kitchen.

He gave the cooking dish a blast of heat and threw in the vegetables, protecting his tender skin from the fat with a small Force-nudge. Sauce, spices, a quick stir and lower the heat

He ignored the roll of a drawer and the clink of cutlery, but then Qui-Gon was pressed up behind him, eschewing the table to stand indecently close. An arm reached around to spear a piece, and lifted to Obi-Wan's mouth, hovering until he took the tender meat in his teeth, then it dipped and Qui-Gon took a slice for himself.

Obi-Wan leaned back against Qui-Gon's chest, cautious but grateful to rest his balance. The humiliation faded as fingers traced lightly over the skin of his ribs, the touch never remotely sexual but for the fact that Obi-Wan was clad in rich blue lingerie, and for the erection prodding his cleft. He began to relax, let his eyes close and accepted whatever warmth was pressed to his lips, humming a little each time the fork slid away. This was what he wanted from his mood-shifting master. He could feel the other man's throat shift as he swallowed, feel his fingers skirting the belt.

The fork brushed against Obi-Wan's chin and he licked it away without thought, and Qui-Gon growled in his ear. Obi-Wan started to turn but meat brushed his lips and pulled away and he followed to take it.

Piece by piece Qui-Gon fed them both, until Obi-Wan swallowed the last vegetable and twisted his head for Qui-Gon to lick the sauce from his lips.

A gentle kiss. "The thirteenth kata, Pen Juya's variation. You could use the balance practice." He settled into the corner chair to read and watch.

Obi-Wan stared after him, but Qui-Gon ignored him. Obi-Wan moved to the centre of the room and began to stretch.

By mid-afternoon, Obi-Wan was beginning to understand. He had the style down, now; wasn't near as graceful as Qui-Gon but he walked with ease, and could probably have sparred in the heels without too much trouble. Except that his feet hurt like Sith hell.

The pride of moving from the wobble to a confident walk was short-lived as the confident walk took on a touch of hobble, and the intensity in Qui-Gon's eyes returned to its former amusement.

Obi-Wan was less amused. His toes were squeezed into the point of the shoe, corners of nails cutting in, the arches of his feet twisted unnaturally, blisters lining his heels and other places he hadn't known could blister. His calves ached as though he'd spent an entire training session on his toes - even the inner curve of his spine seemed to grind as he moved.

He paused to stretch his back. "You do this by choice, Master?"

Qui-Gon just smiled. "Is your curiosity satisfied, Padawan?"

"I think I understand." He kicked off one shoe and found himself gathered in Qui-Gon's arms before he could place his foot on the floor.

"Don't do that." Qui-Gon Force-yanked the shoe back under his apprentice. "Trust me; you don't want to do that."

Obi-Wan glared at him defiantly, gathering breath to argue, but Qui-Gon seemed genuinely worried, so he let out the breath and slipped his aching foot back into the shoe.

"Come." Qui-Gon took his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom. He laid him on the bed, and sat at the other end to pull off the shoes, smiling at Obi-Wan's sigh as he gathered his feet in his lap.

"I thought you didn't want me to take them off."

"I didn't want you to take them off while standing." Qui-Gon pressed one foot flat, nodding pointedly at Obi-Wan's choked breath. "It hurts even more if you put weight on it."

Obi-Wan might have been annoyed, except that those hands immediately turned to soothing the abused muscles, rubbing the soles of his feet and rotating his ankles. It was ecstacy. He let his head loll back on the pillow as large thumbs dug into his arch, pressuring away the worst of the ache. A kiss was pressed to the softened flesh, and then the other foot was taken into care.

"This almost makes the agony worth it."

"Almost?"

Obi-Wan opened one eye. "My legs still hurt."

"My poor Padawan." Qui-Gon pressed a healing kiss to the sole of the foot he held, and then nipped each toe with his lips, catching the delicate blue silk in his mouth. He might as well have been doing it to Obi-Wan's cock, for the blood rush it produced, and Obi-Wan might have begged him to move on.

Might have, but the captured foot was rubbed against beard, the touch scratchy and soft through the stocking, not quite a tickle. Qui-Gon's eyes rolled shut in pleasure and he mouthed the arch, teeth barely scraping, closing gently around the ball of bone behind Obi-Wan's big toe.

Obi-Wan whimpered, and Qui-Gon's eyes jerked open then narrowed. One last kiss, and then he lifted the leg and slowly pressed the foot back. Ache spiked up Obi-Wan's calf and he gasped, torn between the straining muscles and the warm mouth sucking on his Achillies tendon. A hand pressed up his calf, soothing and stretching at once. "Do you know how long I have fantasised about this?"

Obi-Wan only swallowed, and Qui-Gon flexed the foot harder. "Do you, Obi-Wan?"

"No!"

A slight easing in reward, and Qui-Gon leaned forward to run the tip of his tongue over the end of each toe-nail, each with exact and even pressure. Lick, "Two years," lick, "three months," lick, "four days," lick, lick and then Obi-Wan's big toe was taken into the hot, wet mouth. Qui-Gon's voice stayed low, but something darker crept in as he spoke. "I never fantasised that I would be too doped up to remember our first time."

"You don't- you don't remember?"

Qui-Gon relaxed his hold, and returned to nuzzling Obi-Wan's foot. "I remember you helping me down the corridor, using the Force to make sure no one saw. I think I remember you pressing inside... There are flashes, impressions." He shook his head. "I don't remember."

Obi-Wan pulled his foot away and sat up, twisting onto his knees so he could run his fingers over his lover's face. "I didn't know - I'm so sor-"

"You used me." The accusation in that same soft, neutral voice. "You took something you can never return."

Obi-Wan felt hollow. "I thought..."

"You thought I disappeared this morning because I was ashamed of this." A heavy hand smoothed up Obi-Wan's stockinged leg.

"I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan's gaze for a long time, and then he pushed against his chest. "Lie down." More gently, "This is my turn."

He lifted one long navy ankle to his shoulder, and set back to his massage, eyes growing distant and then closing as he worked at the calf, unthreading every knot until Obi-Wan was sure he would never walk again. Qui-Gon's shoulders lowered, relaxing as he absorbed himself in the task, changing legs and beginning over.

More kisses pressed to the sole of his foot and then Obi-Wan watched, entranced, as Qui-Gon shifted and leaned forward to inhale a line from the garter to his groin. He nudged his nose around Obi-Wan's scrotum, filling his lungs, and Obi-Wan hoped to the Force that Qui-Gon's breath would be enough for both of them because he was never going to breathe again.

One broad, heavy hand reached back down his leg, calloused and gentle and suddenly muted by stocking. Further, fingers exploring as they went, until he found the crook of knee and pulled Obi-Wan's leg up, pushing his knee to his chest. Fingers travelled back and slipped under the garter, caressing, and he began to divide his kisses between Obi-Wan's balls and the newly-exposed skin where buttock met thigh.

Obi-Wan lay back and took it, offering little more than sighs of approval at the scrape of teeth on the tender flesh of his cheek and the tease of a tongue in his crevice. "I could drift off to sleep right here."

He yelped as the suspender snapped against his skin.

"That is not the aim of the exercise, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan had to steady his relief at the light tone, let his voice grow seductive. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Qui-Gon watched him for a long moment, weighing his options perhaps, and then pulled away to strip down to his stockings, and once again Obi-Wan had to remind himself to breathe.

He was an artist's rendering, long lines shaded with charcoal, ink for his eyes. Every line speaking confident beauty.

"Use me, Qui-Gon." The words slipped out unintended, but Obi-Wan couldn't regret them when he saw the way Qui-Gon froze, mouth ajar.

"You don't-"

"Take back what you want." Qui-Gon didn't move, but now Obi-Wan needed it, wanted it more than Qui-Gon. "Anything you want. Use me like I used you."

Slowly, Qui-Gon climbed back up to kneel between Obi-Wan's legs, caressing the spread knees. "You are so beautiful, my padawan. As I watched you walk today... I could do such things to you."

"Do them." Obi-Wan reached forward to push his thumb into Qui-Gon's mouth. "I want you to."

Qui-Gon burned, heat from his eyes and his skin and his Force. He slipped a hand under Obi-Wan's knee, pushing the leg up until the silken thigh caressed Obi-Wan's belly. "Leave your hands where they are. Don't move."

Obi-Wan curled his fingers into the pillow, meeting Qui-Gon's gaze as the master took a long digit into his mouth. It shone wetly, and Obi-Wan lifted his other leg, curling until silk rubbed against his nipples, and a moment later a slick finger was sliding inside his body. Obi-Wan keened and bristled kisses fell along the line of his garter, hair dragging over his bare thigh. A second finger, slowly opening him until Obi-Wan was begging.

The fingers pulled away, leaving him hollow, and Qui-Gon slowed, eyes sliding away. Obi-Wan's hands clenched in the pillow, fighting his impatience. "Qui-Gon-"

"Roll over. On your knees." The voice was rough, uncomfortable, and Obi-Wan did as he was told, suppressing a shiver at Qui-Gon's awkwardness, letting his weight rest on his elbows. Qui-Gon nudged his legs further apart, and there was the light touch of a hand on his ankle. Obi-Wan groaned as Qui-Gon delicately slipped the shoes back on his feet. Fingers lingered, reverently, pressing where Obi-Wan's toes were constricted, skirting the edges of the leather and tracing slowly up the backs of his calves. Obi-Wan shivered at the ghost-like touch, and then the two fingers pressed inside him once more, slicked with lube. Obi-Wan whimpered at the invasion, as they pressed deep and stretched him.

Empty once more; Qui-Gon shifted, knees pushing between Obi-Wan's, spreading him further and then something else pressed inside him, harder, thinner than the fingers. A stiletto. The heel of Qui-Gon's shoe was gradually, carefully piercing Obi-Wan's body and he seized with tension. The shoe stilled. "You are beautiful, Obi-Wan. Let me do this to your beautiful body."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I can't-"

"No." Roughly. "This time I make the choices. Your choice is to stay, or to go."

And never return. And perhaps lose his master if Obi-Wan gave less than he had already taken, but he couldn't give this. He couldn't welcome this thing inside him. Stay, or go. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn't give permission. Qui-Gon would have to take it from him.

Time passed, and then a hand curled around his hip, pulling him back until a thick erection met his rump. Obi-Wan's body opened instinctively, and the thing slid deeper inside him, and then Qui-Gon was mouthing his buttocks, kissing and licking. Obi-Wan whimpered, heard a groan in reply and then the heel began to move inside him and there was the unmistakable gasp of Qui-Gon pleasuring himself, the sticky sound of a hand on slick skin. The image of Qui-Gon kneeling behind him, masturbating over the shoe spun in Obi-Wan's head, making him dizzy, spinning faster as teeth closed over the lace belt of the suspender belt, nipping skin so it tingled like his balls, like his shaft.

"You in me, Master. Please, in me."

A hand cupped his balls, thumb massaging his perineum and a tongue stroked the sensitive skin of his cleft. Obi-Wan moaned, pushing back, opening himself to be filled until hard leather pressed against his skin and Qui-Gon's every breath whined in his chest.

"Please Master."

The shoe was slowly withdrawn and Obi-Wan was tumbled onto his back, amazed at the wild look in his master's eyes and the glistening, dark cock.

Qui-Gon wiped his hands off on a cloth, urgency making him delay more until Obi-Wan's breaths were almost sobs. He shuffled forward, sliding his knees under Obi-Wan's thighs, until his cock brushed his balls, and then he ran his hands up Obi-Wan's legs, eyes slitted in rapture. He kissed each blue ankle with a caress to the shoes and then hooked them around his neck, running his broad hands up and down the stockings before he began to press inside.

Obi-Wan couldn't hold his whimpers as Qui-Gon's thick length filled him, was taken by the sight of his own stockinged legs stretched up his master's chest, reflecting the wild blue eyes, pebbled nipples rubbing his calves as Qui-Gon rocked deep inside.

They waited, breathing harshly. Qui-Gon let his fingers play along Obi-Wan's belt, caressing his belly and the lace in equal measure. Obi-Wan just watched, unable to reach... or maybe he could. He curled his foot, rubbing it against Qui-Gon's hair, cock aching as Qui-Gon nuzzled back. Qui-Gon's focus returned to his face, watching, and he leaned forward to kiss him, holding Obi-Wan's legs straight, folding his body in half until his knees dug into his own shoulders. Obi-Wan groaned with pleasure at the stretch of muscles, opened his mouth and let Qui-Gon plunder him as he wished. His legs were pressed between their bodies, pinned under the weight of his lover, ankles waving awkwardly behind his head.

Qui-Gon shifted, two pairs of garters scraped over his buttocks and then Obi-Wan cried out as sharp pleasure licked up his spine. The angle as Qui-Gon began to thrust, the push and pull of that glorious cock in his ass and Obi-Wan didn't know where to focus, so he stole the lessons of his meditations and absorbed it all at once, stretched and filled and caressed and desired and he buried his hands in his master's hair, pulling him down harder and loving the extra burn in the tendons behind his knees, the way it channeled the pleasure from his cock all the way to his toes.

Their kiss broke and a soft cry yanked Obi-Wan's attention back to his lover's face, a fierce look that belied the stream of keening whimpers, hips jerking against Obi-Wan's ass, coming inside him and that was enough; Qui-Gon was coming inside him and Obi-Wan was coming, every muscle in his body thrumming with every pulse of his cock.

~peeking out from behind fingers~

Are you still here?

This is absolutely my last in the series. If you want more lingerie, y'all'll have to write it yourselves. I promise I'll read it.

More Squidfic can be found at
The Lecherous Tentacles of Dr Squidlove
http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html